


Is It Love, Really?

by Mai_Blade



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Romance, Blood Gulch Chronicles, Do Not Post on Another Website, Don't copy to another site, Drabble Collection, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, I haven't seen the time travel season, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Sort Of, Spanish in English to spare terrible Google translations, Spoilers, Unrequited Crush, mild Freelancer Project references for some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mai_Blade/pseuds/Mai_Blade
Summary: Because it sure as hell isn't what I expected!





	1. Misguided [Doc]

_In a misguided attempt to get closer to his crush Doc recommends a transfer. It doesn't help._

* * *

You’d probably forgive your old friend “Doc” for his recommendation for your reassignment to his current post so he’d have some help with everyone who ‘kept dying and wouldn’t obey the natural laws of the universe and stay dead’, and only to subsequently die again. You’re not entirely sure how he managed to phrase that so that your transfer was approved, but someone probably didn’t care about how they did their job and whether or not it was actually done properly.

It’s not the first time that you’ve had to wonder who is running the army.

_Crash!_

“Goddamnit, Caboose!”

“Tucker did it.”

“Fuck that!”

Someday. In the not-anywhere-near future.

“Blargh-honk-honk!”

“Junior, get the fuck out!”

“Hey, don’t yell at my kid!”

“Ow! Junior is biting me!”

_Maybe._

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Speak of the devil.

You turned to Doc, crashing and yelling coming from the interior of the Blue’s base. You stared at him from behind your gold visor, thinking of your former post and fondly remembering the sanity there. 

Alien honks and pitiful human cries drifted out of the Blue base just as the Reds appeared on the hill to yell insults in an attempt to draw the Blue out for the daily scrimmage. You turned your radio on. 

“I fucking hate you.”

* * *

**Take care that no one hates you justly. **

**~Publilius Syrus**


	2. Kiss [Caboose]

_Church's plan works too well and not in the way anyone expected._

* * *

You and Caboose were ordered to distract the Reds.

(”How?” you had asked, perfectly legitimately, rightfully concerned about suddenly being thrown to the wolves.

Church had evaded the question. “Just, just distract them. Think of something, anything!”)

So here you were with Caboose in front of the Blue base, paralyzed by the knowledge that you didn’t know what to do. You both stood there, unsure of what Church wanted you to accomplish.

“God, what the hell are you two doing?” Church demanded on your radio when he realized the Reds weren’t distracted at all and that his decoy team was still at the base.

“Well–“you started.

“Do something already!”

“I–“you scowled as he cut the transmission.

Caboose suddenly yelled. “I have an idea!” 

Startled, you turned to him. “What is it?”

“Let’s dance!”

“Let’s not,” you deadpanned immediately, because it would be a cold day in hell before you danced in this armor. You exhaled in frustration, tapping your fingers on your thigh armor. “What can we do to distract the Reds long enough for Church and Tucker to, uh, to do whatever the hell they’re going to do?”

“We could have a tea party,” Caboose suggested. He paused, “Only with no tea. ‘Cause we have no tea. It will be a without-tea party.”

You ignored Caboose, mostly because you were petty and wanted to be the one who came up with the plan. Dancing and a without-tea party would probably work, but _you_ want to come up with the idea that works.

Come on, a canyon full of guys who’ve been here long-term fighting each other for the duration of that time period so what could… wait… a canyon full of guys…? Guys are men and men, according to mom, are perverts, _so_… 

You started walking to the cliffs with purpose. “Come on, Caboose. I have an idea.”

Caboose followed, somewhat concerned. “Is it a good idea without pain?”

“Relatively,” you dismissed.

“I have relatives,” Caboose replied. “I do not like them.”

You quickly led Caboose to a place that seemed out of view from Blue base but just barely in view of Red base yet in plain view of Church and Tucker’s team. In essence, it looked as though you two were hiding from anyone who might come out of Blue base but seemingly unaware that you could be spotted by the Reds, and in actuality you were in complete view of your other teammates. 

In the time it took to get to the designated spot, this movement caught the attention of the two Reds standing watch at Red base, a pair of maroon and orange soldiers.

(“Whoa, Simmons, we have movement out there.”

“Yeah? Who is it?”

“The Blues, genius.”

“I mean which Blues, jackass.”

“Looks like their rookies.”

“How can you tell? They’re wearing helmets with visors.”

“They’re wearing regulation blue armor. You know there are only two types who wear those and we also know that the Blues don’t have officers in their ranks.”

“Right… Well, what are they doing?”

“They look like they’re… hell, I don’t know.”

“They don’t look like they’re coming this way. They look more like they’re trying to hide from their own team. Why would they do that?”

“Clearly they’re hiding from work. Good job, rookies. I mean, it would be, if you weren’t Blues. Wait, or is it, since they’re Blues and not working hard to defeat us?”

“Hang on. They’ve come to a stop. Can you get them from here?”

“Nah, because one, they’re out of range and two, this isn’t a sniper rifle. Also, why the hell should I shoot them? You’re Sarge’s kissass, you do it. You actually _like_ work.”)

Caboose knelt beside you where you were crouched behind a big rock. “What are we going to do?” His voice brightened. “Oh, oh, is it going to be something super great so that Church will want to be my best friend because I’ll be so cool?”

“Take off your helmet,” you ordered, removing your own.

(“Holy shit, they’ve got a girl!”

“Wait, what? Are you sure it’s a real girl and not a feminine man?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a real girl.”

“But how can you tell?”

“I can’t, but I can fucking dream, can’t I?”

“So you’re not sure.”

“This isn’t a sniper rifle. I don’t have zoom vision, Simmons.”)

Caboose stared. “I am not sure about this. Church said to not take my helmet off because the Reds might kill me. And that would be bad.”

“Church told you to help me distract the Reds, right? Well, this will distract the Reds.” You paused for a moment, “Hopefully.”

Caboose was quiet for a long moment.

“I do not want to take my face off.”

…Yeah, okay, you’re not even going to touch that issue, thank you. But your plan should still work, even if only to cause confusion.

“Hey, Caboose? Can I kiss you?”

He was quiet again. “…I… think that would be nice?” He cocked his head. “You are not scary. You are not Sheila, either, but you are nice.” He straightened his head and nodded. “Yes. You may give me a kiss, if you want.”

You stared at his visor and slowly turned red.

Okay, you did not think this plan through, did you? Agh, you shouldn’t just gone with the dancing plan! Well, it’s too late now, so you just have to bite the bullet and _do it_.

Reaching over, you clasped his helmeted head in your hands. Then, with your face nearly hot, you leaned forward and planted your lips on his speaker.

(“They’re… kissing?”

“No shit, Sherlock. Pretty hard to confuse that action, even if one dumbass is still wearing their helmet.”)

Caboose was perfectly still as you leaned back. Oh, god, you could see your embarrassed expression in his visor!

Pulling away completely, you hid your burning face in your gloved hands. Right now would be a perfect time for someone to put you out of your misery!

“Miss Rookie?”

That stupid nickname isn’t helping!

“Did you hate it?”

Did you? Well, it wasn’t really a kiss, right? So there wasn’t anything to hate. It was just silly and embarrassing, that’s all.

You cleared your throat as you straightened up. “Uh, no, Caboose, I didn’t hate it.”

“…Did you like it?”

Resisting the urge to choke, you tried to find a non-answer to give him.

“Um, well, it was different.”

“Different from what?”

“You know, kissing real lips.”

“…But this is my real face?”

Oh, _hun._ Did something mess him up or was he born that way? This poor, unfortunate soul. You’re not equipped to deal with this, so let’s avoid it like hell.

“Um, sure, Caboose.”

“Is the plan working?”

You nearly gave it all away by almost looking in the direction of Red base. Instead, you managed to catch yourself and pointedly didn’t look.

“Uh, probably?”

“Should we do it again to make sure?”

Is he fishing for another kiss or actually trying to make Church’s plan a success? Probably the latter, since he’s obsessed with Church for some reason.

“Alright, let’s-!”

You froze as Caboose reversed roles, bringing up his hands to cup _your_ face.

As he neared, you just had to close your eyes.

(“Holy… fuck. Why the hell didn’t you send _me_ on decoy duty with her? I could’ve taught her how to actually kiss. Look at Caboose. He’s doing it the same wrong way!”

Church groaned and almost wished there was a rock or wall he could bang his head against. His decoy team was supposed to distract the Reds. Too bad they were distracting their own teammates as well with how stupid they were acting.

“I’m surrounded by idiots on all sides.”

“Well, that is the definition of surrounded, genius.”

“Shut up, Tucker.”)

* * *

**The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer. **

**~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this on Luna, you'll notice that I've changed it.
> 
> If you haven't, I've changed this chapter so that Caboose doesn't take his helmet off. The original was written long before Chorus were Caboose says he doesn't recognize his own 'face', so I've changed the original to reflect this perception of his.


	3. Empty [Tucker]

_When one feels empty one will do almost anything to try to fill the aching void._

* * *

When you first joined the army your boyfriend had been recruited in freelancer project during basic training. After the project went belly-up he was considered a liability and hunted down with the rest of the surviving freelancers. You knew he was dead and had been dead for some time. You had loved him. You didn’t believe in that ‘one true love’ crap magazines, movies and books tried selling you, but you loved him a lot.

You loved him like you had never loved anyone before. He seemed to have returned your feelings just as much, and you had had plans to get married. You still had the ring he’d given you.

Losing him was an unexpected blow. Since then you’ve tried to get over him and move on.

_huff huff_

This man with you doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that you lost the one you loved. He doesn’t care that you still feel sad and alone and lost. He doesn’t particularly care that you’ll do almost anything to fill the emptiness inside, aside from the fact that it’s getting him laid for the first time in far too long. 

Tucker doesn’t care.

But then, in all fairness, he didn’t ask and you didn’t say.

* * *

**Empty pockets never held anyone back. Only empty heads and empty hearts can do that. **

**~Norman Vincent Peale**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't exactly complimentary towards Tucker back when I first wrote these. Since Chorus, though, I like him a bit more. Nowhere near as much as I like other characters like Caboose, Wash, or some of the Freelancers, but enough that he's not close to the bottom of the barrel. If I do write new Tucker & Reader drabbles, I'll be less likely to make it this sort of angsty.


	4. Crush [Grif]

_You are going about it the wrong way._

* * *

There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about today, not way out here in the middle of nowhere in a place dominated mostly by men. Hell, you’d even forgotten to keep track of the days so you didn’t know when your own birthday was, much less any commercial-driven holiday. Wearing your regulation fatigues you had walked into the common room.

And stopped dead.

“What. The. Hell.“

“Good morning!” Donut beamed at you, hanging up another string of abominations. “You’re early. Usually I’m the only one up at this time. Today’s a special day so I wanted to surprise everyone.”

“Oh, they’ll be surprised,” you muttered drily, eying the common room with distaste. You had wanted to relax before Sagre started the day but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. You gestured to the decorations littering the common room. “What the hell is all this for?”

Donut opened his mouth to reply when two people came up behind you.

Grif repeated your inquiry roughly. “What the hell is this?” 

He spied Donut over your shoulder. “Oh.” Suddenly so much was clarified. And all of a sudden he didn’t really care. “Never mind.”

Simmons brushed by you and tentatively walked into the common room, eying the new décor. “Donut, what did you do to the common room?”

Donut spread his arms. “I decorated it for Valentine’s Day!”

Staring at the pink, red and silver heart-themed decorations made that much plainly evident. But, “No, we mean _why_ did you do it? I don’t think Sarge is going to be happy about this.”

“No shit, rookie,” Grif grumbled, gingerly stepping into the room as though he expected to be assaulted by the decorations. “I’ll probably get blamed for this.”

You glanced at him, “Why? It’s plain to see you didn’t have anything to do with this. That would have required work, effort, and creativity, three things you’re clearly not capable of.”

“Fuck off, rookie,” Grif grumbled. “I get enough of that from Sarge and Simmons. I don’t need it from you.”

“But she’s got you pegged,” Simmons interjected, holding a red paper heart in his hands. He turned to Donut. “Where did you get all these?”

You tuned the two men out, frowning at Grif as he stalked off to the kitchen for breakfast. Sarge and Simmons were rubbing off on you. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Well, all right, maybe you did, but you didn’t want Grif to be mad at you. Which, in retrospect, would be better helped if you didn’t emulate your other senior officers. It’s just that you wanted Grif to notice you and he didn’t unless he was picking on you, or ordering you around or insulting you.

You picked up a pink paper heart and stared at it. 

Of all the Reds, why did it have to be Grif?

* * *

**Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence. **

**~David Byrne**


	5. False [Donut]

_Well, maybe it'd be like the song. A gay boyfriend would probably treat you a whole lot better than a heterosexual one._

* * *

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at Donut. “Uh… I…” You scratched the back of your head, staring at the fatigue-clothed soldier. You’d been stationed at Blood Gulch Red Base long enough to gather that Donut didn’t exactly… “I thought you… swung the other way…?”

Donut beamed, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Grif snorted from the couch, having been in the common room with you when Donut popped the question. “What have I been saying since the beginning?”

You glanced at Grif. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the proceedings, instead turning his attention back to his sandwich. You turned your gaze to Donut who stood there smiling at you. But if he did swing the other way then why ask you to be his girlfriend?

“My parents are worried I’m not meeting anyone all the way out here,” Donut said, filling the silence and unknowingly answering your unasked question. “I figure a few pictures would allay their fears and let me be for awhile.”

You exhaled. Was that all? Fine, it wasn’t like Grif or Simmons gave you the time of day anyway. “All right, sure, why not?”

Donut squealed with joy and grabbed your hands, pulling you out of the common room and down the hall. “Come on, we can start taking pictures!”

You let the happy man lead you down the hall with little protest. It wouldn’t be real but was it ever?

* * *

**We are betrayed by what is false within. **

**~George Meredith**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg. I totally forgot about that song (Gay Boyfriend by The Hazzards). I'm glad I posted this because now I can listen to it again.


	6. Almost Yours [Simmons]

_If he's going to lose face either way then he'd rather lie than bare his heart._

* * *

For the life of him Simmons couldn’t remember how he and Grif went from talking about the Blues to talking about girls. The fact that the Blue team had actual girls and not pseudo girls like their own resident pink rookie might have had something to do with it though.

“So, anyway,” Grif finished his tale, “to add insult to injury I get drafted the week after she dumps me and find myself out in the middle of a box canyon with a bunch of guys.”

“Well, there’s your Sister over at–“

“Don’t even go there,” Grif cut him off. “She’s my _sister._ I’m not going there and you’d better not either.”

“I don’t suppose the Blue’s tank counts then?” Simmons asked, remembering that the tank was referred to as Sheila.

“Dude,” Grif deadpanned. “It’s a tank.”

They stood on the roof of the base silently. 

“So,” Grif started, making Simmons cringe.

_Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask._

“Did you ever have a girl back home?”

_Fuck_. Simmons deciding that lying was better than telling Grif the truth. “No.”

“…You’re serious?” Grif asked. He took Simmons’ silence as confirmation. “I knew it! Girls don’t dig nerds!”

Simmons tuned out Grif’s woefully uninformed rant. Girls did like nerds. Well, some of them did, and one of them had been you. Simmons ground his teeth down as the past came to him again, no matter how hard he tried to keep it away.

_“I guess this is goodbye,” you said, standing on the platform with him._

_“Yeah,” Simmons murmured quietly, duffel bag over his shoulder. He had signed up for the army but you hadn’t and rather than put you through waiting for him to come back to Earth he’d decided to end things. There had been another option, one that still included the waiting though as something different, but he hadn’t had the guts to ask you. He was afraid of being shot down so rather than take the plunge he’d decided to just let you go. “This is… it.”_

_“Take care of yourself, Dick,” you requested softly._

_Simmons nodded and turned to leave. He paused when you said his name again._

_“Dick… I would have said yes, you know.”_

_He had stood there, hand painfully clenching the strap of his duffel bag. Then, chickening out, he had walked forward without a backward glance. _

_He ignored the painful throb in his chest that followed his every step._

He had been so fucking stupid. You had almost been his. All he had had to do was turn around and ask. Hell, he probably hadn’t even needed to turn around. He should have just _asked._

Grif was still ranting as Simmons slowly came out of his flashback. “-it’s scientifically proven!”

“Girls like nerds,” Simmons defended himself half-heartedly. “They do.

“They do…”

* * *

**In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love. **

**~Diego Marchi**


	7. Burden [Sarge]

_You hate it when you suddenly come crashing down._

* * *

You’ve been stationed at Red Base for a few weeks now. Sarge still hasn’t completely wrapped his head around the fact that Red Command sent his squad a _girl_. Grif said he was probably physically incapable of processing that information. Simmons, one to stick up for his sergeant whenever he could, actually agreed and apologized on Sarge’s behalf. This resulted in the argument you were now watching like a ping-pong match.

“Face it, Simmons. Sarge isn’t the most open-minded person around.”

Simmons protested. “That’s not true. Sarge is very open-minded.”

“Yeah,” Grif concurred, startling Simmons. He continued, “He’s so open-minded his brain keeps falling out.”

Your lips twitched as you suddenly couldn’t register what the two men were saying. Your mind had latched onto Grif’s words, and you found yourself trying very hard to not burst out laughing.

_Laughing at your leading officer is frowned on, laughing at your leading officer is frowned on, laughing… at…_

You clapped a hand over your mouth, holding your stomach as you staggered out of the room on unsteady feet. Simmons called after you.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s better to let it out!”

“What are you talking about? If she’s going to be sick she should try for the toilet before letting it out.”

“What are _you_ talking about? Can’t you recognize when someone’s trying to not laugh? No, I guess not since you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“I do too have a sense of humor! It’s just…”

The voices of your fellow soldiers faded and became muffled as you escaped down the hall and around the corner. Unable to go any further you slid to the ground and bent double, shaking with suppressed mirth. Tears escaped your clenched eyes as you struggled, and failed, to maintain your composure. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the sound of heavy footfall came near.

“What in blazes is wrong with you? I knew Command made a mistake in sending you here!”

Sarge’s voice was the last thing you needed right now!

_Brain… fall out… don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh!_

You smothered your face into your knees, shaking violently. 

“Come on, little lady,” Sarge said gruffly, surprising you as he scooped you up from the floor. “Let’s get you to bed so you can rest.”

You barely heard him as you struggled to contain your mirth.

_Open… mind… brain… fall..._

Sarge opened the door to your shared quarters. Donut looked up from his magazines. “Oh, what happened?”

“Command made a mistake, that’s what happened!” Sarge set you down on your bed. He pulled the covers over you as you steadfastly hid your face from him. “What were they thinking, sending a frail girl to the front lines?!”

_You were a mistake, were you?_

Suddenly there wasn’t anything funny at all. Your stomach sank as you curled up on the bed.

Donut blinked. “Uh, this isn’t…”

“I’m calling Red Command at once and seeing that this girl is discharged and deported back to Earth!”

_What the hell? You weren’t the best soldier, okay, but surely you were a step up from Grif?_

Donut tried getting through to his irate sergeant. “She just got here. They’re probably not going to…”

“The army is no place for a girl! A girl in an army that isn’t a cooking and sewing army is just a burden!”

** _Ouch._ **

The door slammed and silence fell in the room. After a moment you felt Donut sit on your bed. His hand touched your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You kept your face hidden. “Yeah, Donut… I’m fine.”

* * *

**Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. **

**~M. Kathleen Casey**


	8. It's Over [Church]

_It was over before it could begin._

* * *

You hated your post at Sidewinder. You hated the ice, the snow, and the constant cold. The only bright spot was that your teammates were a good bunch. The new guy, Church, was your favorite. Not that you’d ever tell him.

“Tell him,” had been Jimmy’s advice. “You never know when you’re going to die. Do you want regrets when the time comes?”

You never took Jimmy’s advice. That didn’t stop him from offering. 

Still, you and Church got along okay, if barely. After a hell of a lot of dilly-dallying and second-guessing yourself you decided you’d tell Church that you were interested and hey, maybe…

A faint cry reached your ears.

“Bloody murder! Bloody murder!”

* * *

**I held a moment in my hand, brilliant as a star, fragile as a flower, a tiny sliver of one hour. I dripped it carelessly, Ah! I didn't know, I held opportunity. **

**~Hazel Lee**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before the whole Jimmy and Church thing was shown.


	9. Withdrawn [Lopez]

_He'll call you names but yours was the file he was least likely to delete._

* * *

You stood on the roof of the base trying to memorize the names of your fellow Reds. You held up a hand and counted them off. “Sarge… Simmons… Donut… Grif… and… there’s another one, the guy who speaks… Lopez! That’s it. Okay, Sarge, Simmons, Donut, Grif and Lopez.”

A voice came up from behind you. [_“Actually, it is Sarge, Simmons, myself, the hated orange one and the stupid pink one.”_]

You jumped, “Wah!” You spun around, “Lopez! Don’t sneak up on me!”

Lopez stared at you. [_“You are supposed to be on watch, stupid girl. Where is the hated orange one?”_] 

You frowned, though not from annoyance. It was taking some time but you were beginning to understand some of what Lopez was saying. “Naranja… odiaba… Grif?”

[_“Yes.”_]

“You want to know where Grif is?”

If Lopez had the facial muscle to grimace he would, but since he didn’t, he instead continued in his monotone Spanish. [_“No, I do not want to know. My crazy father is the one who wants to know.”_]

You frowned under your gold visor again, trying to parse his meaning from what little Spanish you knew. “No but… father…? Oh! Sarge wants to know where Grif is? Hell, I don’t know. He left ages ago. Probably smoking or napping somewhere.”

[_“The hated orange one shall be reported. My stupid father will probably not understand and decide to do something crazy or hear words I did not say. Worse, he will put words in my mouth. I hate this place.’_]

You smiled under you helmet. “Um, I don’t know what all that was. Sorry, Lopez.” You clenched your fist and grinned under your gold visor. “But don’t worry! I’ll work on my Spanish and someday I’ll get you out of your shell!”

Lopez stared at you. Here was someone else making assumptions about him. [_“I am not withdrawn. I am jaded.”_]

You clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lopez. I’m here for you!”

[_“Go away, stupid girl.”_]

* * *

**Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. **

**~Norman B. Rice**


	10. Simple Form of Entertaiment [Sheila]

_What the hell, girls gotta stick together, right?_

* * *

This was your new favorite game and would totally be worth the chewing out you were sure to get from Church later.

_BOOM._

“Fuck!”

“Holy shit!”

“Running, running, running!”

_If_ he survived.

You watched as your fellow Blues take refuge in the opposing Red Base. The occupants of said base, having been driven away just earlier, refused to let them in. A flick of a switch and another cannon burst sent both teams into hiding.

Sheila, the tank program, voiced her concerns. “I do not think that this is what Church had in mind when he said to get inside me.”

You grinned under your gold visor. “Hey, he told me to learn how to use you, right?”

Sheila repeated, mildly affronted, “Use?”

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly. You mused, “Get you… going properly? Yeah, Church wants me to know how to get you going properly. That’s why he told me to get inside you… and to… get you going…”

You and Sheila sat there in awkward silence.

A moment later you decided, hell, and laughed out loud. You patted the console. “Don’t worry, Sheila, baby. I’ll take good care of you.” You grinned and aimed the controls at Red Base. “Now, shall we continue?”

Sheila thought about it—for a nanosecond. “Affirmative.”

_BOOM._

* * *

**I see my body as an instrument, rather than an ornament. **

**~Alanis Morissette**


	11. Disease [Doc]

_He could have confessed in a better place._

* * *

You were standing in the middle of the canyon, having made it quite clear that you’d rather live out in the open than bunk with either lunatic team in Blood Gulch. Both teams, after finding out the hard way that you weren’t the pacifist Doc was, left you alone. It was Doc himself who didn’t get the message.

“Tucker’s baby is quite the handful. He drinks quite a lot of blood you know. Church is still having trouble adjusting to the new life at Blue Base but…”

Your mind registered his painful babbling as thus: _alien baby birthed parasitically; blood transfusions needed; mental instability affecting pseudo commanding officer._ You drummed your fingers on your medical scanner. “That’s… fascinating, Doc. Could you leave now?”

Doc fidgeted. “Um, actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

You stared at him. Doc was a medic, of sorts, and kind of useful. If he thought that he needed help, then he probably did. As a fellow — though far more successful — medic, it was your duty to help him, or, at the very least, to hear him out. “What is it?”

“I… I think I’m kind of sick…”

Your eyelids drooped. “I could have told you that.”

Doc realized what it sounded like. “No, no, no! I don’t mean mentally! Well, maybe a little…” He shook his head. Okay, it was all or nothing now. He stared at you through his gold visor. “I think I love you.”

The sunlight glared off your gold visor as you turned your head to stare at him. You liked Doc–

Music approached from Red Base as the Reds raced the Warthog towards enemy territory. The tank at Blue Base fired into the field with loud explosions. The Warthog flipped and the Reds ran back to their base swearing their heads off. Your radio crackled and Sarge’s voice came through. “Medic, come to Red Base! And not the pansy purple one either!”

All right, even after that and all the other stuff that seemed to happen every five minutes or so you still found it in your heart to call Doc your friend. But that’s all he was.

“Sorry, Doc,” you apologized. “I like you as a friend, I do. Even when you do stupid stuff like getting me relocated to the center of insanity, I like you. But that’s all, you know?” You turned towards Red Base, “Friends?”

Doc sighed, “…Friends.”

He watched your back for a moment before staring up at the sky. “They _really_ need to find an easy cure for this…”

* * *

**If you're never scared or embarrassed or hurt, it means you never take any chances. **

**~Julia Sorel**


	12. Nauseous [Donut]

_It might be a sham but that didn't stop you from being one of_ those _couples._

* * *

You and Donut sat next to each other on the couch in the common room. Grif went on blithely munching and Simmons went on blithely reading.

“Are you my snuggly-wuggly-kins?”

“Yes I am. Are you my sweetie hunny-bunny?”

Grif froze mid-munch. Simmons froze mid-sentence. 

“Of course I am silly. Are you my snookie-wookie-kins?”

“You know it my lovey-dovey!”

Grif looked up as disgust slowly spread across his features. Simmons also looked up, distain spreading across his face.

“My sweetie-pie,” Donut cooed.

“My hunka-hunka burning love,” you cooed in return.

Grif put his food down. Simmons’ eye twitched.

“My honey bunches~”

“My love muffin~”

Grif took his food firmly in hand and stood up. Simmons closed his book and held it tightly as he joined Grif. They left without a word or a backward glance, the nausea-inducing words drifting after them.

“Snoogie-cookie~”

“Snuggly bear~”

* * *

**Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else. **

**~George Bernard Shaw**


	13. Heartbeat [Lopez]

_When something goes wrong Lopez realizes he's more than just 'jaded'._

* * *

“This is why you don’t send girls to the front line!”

“Sarge, we’re not the front line,” Donut tried pointing out in the crowded medical room.

“I knew this would happen,” Sarge went on, not hearing Donut. “This is why I assigned her to base-cleaning duties!”

Grif asked. “Is she gonna make it?” 

Lopez spoke up. “[_If she dies I will kill each and every one of you in your sleep._]” 

“You’re right, Lopez,” Sarge incorrectly translated. “We have to retaliate for this situation. We’ll attack the Blues and demand compensation!”

“She’s in a coma,” Simmons reminded him. “I don’t think compensation is going to cover it.”

“[_The Blues will feel my wrath and know the meaning of pain._]” 

“Okay, I understood ‘Blues’,” Grif said, staring at Lopez. “I guess that means roboto here is with ya, Sarge.” Grif dodged Lopez’s swipe. “Hey, I told you stop that!”

The Reds side-stepped Lopez and left the room, planning their attack on Blue Base. Lopez remained in the room and stared down at your unconscious form. The machines hooked up to you kept track of your vital systems. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor reassured him. You weren’t metal and wires like him. If you got cut you would bleed blood. If you lost a limb it couldn’t be reattached. If you died that was it.

“[_Don't die, stupid girl. You are the only one who tries to understand me. Don't die._]”

You laid there comatose. Lopez played back a memory and heard your voice. ‘_Don’t worry, Lopez. I’m here for you!’_

Making a quick calculation and a few adjustments Lopez created a link between himself and the heart monitor hooked up to you.

“Lopez!” Sarge called from down the hall. “Shake a leg!”

Lopez stood back, his visual processors taking in your silent form. Clutching his firearm, he left the room, the sound of your monitored heartbeat coming through in his audio sensors. If something went wrong he’d be the first to know and the Blues would be the first people he informed.

_Personally._

* * *

**The simple lack of her is more to me than others' presence. **

**~Edward Thomas**


	14. Smitten [Simmons]

_Simmons is learning a person can move on._

* * *

Walking into the kitchen, you see that you are not the first one there. Chipper, you greeted your teammate.

“Good morning, Sim—”

_CRASH clatter clatter_

You jumped back from the avalanche of cutlery hitting the floor, “Geez!”

“Sorry, s-sorry,” Simmons stuttered, dropping to his knees and picking up the scattered utensils. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

“That seems to happen a lot,” you observed innocently, dropping down to help him. You handed him several forks and spoons. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Simmons murmured with his eyes downcast.

You stood up and brushed off your knees. “Well, no one’s come to investigate the crashing noise so I guess everyone’s still asleep.”

“Sarge is up top,” Simmons corrected. 

“Ah, but of course,” you said. “Our commanding officer is always rarin’ to go. Even if there’s nothing to be done,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” Simmons laughed nervously.

You gave him a concerned glance before heading back to your room to put on your armor. Forget breakfast, Simmons was being a little weird. You scratched the back of your neck and wondered if he was always that clumsy.

Grif, awakened by his stomach rather than the crashing noise, stumbled past you in the hall. He found Simmons in the kitchen slapping his forehead into his palm. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

“Whatever happened,” Grif mumbled, getting himself breakfast, “I agree with ya.”

* * *

**Falling in love is so hard on the knees. **

**~Aerosmith**


	15. Sweet Lies [Tucker]

_You knew someone who used to say the same words—but they were sweeter back then._

* * *

His flirting methods are cringe-worthy, but he’s the first person to give you any attention in what seems like forever. It’s not desperation, it isn’t.

You’re just… lonely.

_“I won’t leave you.”_

Church tells you Tucker is lying but you already know that.

Mama taught you better, after all. She said to run far and fast from anyone who did or said the kind of things Tucker did.

_“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”_

You’re not looking for truth or a long-lasting relationship. If you want truth you can ask Church.

As for a long-lasting relationship… you’re not ready, not yet, and besides, Tucker isn’t who you’d pick. After all, you can spot his lies a mile away.

_“I’ll take care of you.”_

But, if not to believe, then it was nice to just listen to the lies Tucker said.

To believe, for a little while, that you’ve found someone who actually meant his words, like you had just once before.

* * *

**It takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen. **

**~"Homer Simpson," from the television show The Simpsons**


	16. Scars [Red Team]

_Nonsensical conversations happen a lot around here._

* * *

“So,” you said conversationally to Grif and Simmons one day in the common room. A question had been bugging you ever since you’d laid eyes on the two soldiers without their armor on, and today was finally the day you were going to ask. Guileless, you gestured at them.

“Why do you two look like bad remakes of Frankenstein’s monster?”

Silence filled the room for two seconds before the Reds all turned their heads in your direction.

You blinked, slightly disconcerted by the sudden attention from the whole team. “Um… That didn’t come out right?”

Grif rolled his eyes and went on munching on whatever he was eating. Simmons glanced at Sarge who picked up the metaphorical ball.

“Simmons was a volunteer for the cyborg program I have here,” Sarge answered.

Simmons put his hand up, “Wait, ‘volunteer’? I didn’t ‘_volunteer_’ for anything.”

“Anyway,” Sarge went on, ignoring his second-in-command, “Grif got himself run over by a tank, and I suppose I had to do something with Simmons spare parts.”

Simmons squawked. “’Spare’?!”

Which is fair, since, you know, Sarge is basically talking about his body parts. You’d be a little peeved too if someone talked about your skin and organs like that.

“I helped with the procedure,” Donut put in proudly, hand in the air. “I held Grif’s hand for hours.”

“Which reminds me,” Grif muttered. “I should cut it off.”

“Hey, that’s my hand, numbnuts,” Simmons griped.

“Grif got those too,” Sarge informed you.

You thought about that. “So, if Grif gets someone pregnant does that mean it’s really Simmons’ kid?”

_“[This conversation is getting weird. I am leaving.”]_

Lopez wisely left the room. 

Behind him, the common room fell into a debate of whose kid would be whose, and later, if cake was better than pie.

(_but you never did settle the question of whose kid would be whose_)

* * *

**The friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you. **

**~Elbert Hubbard, The Notebook, 1927 **


	17. Heart [Grif]

_It should have been a straight shot, but your big mouth went and twisted the way. _

* * *

“I just don’t see the point of this holiday,” Grif griped, sitting amongst red and pink heart-shaped confetti. He flicked some away from him. “It’s just a lame holiday. The only good thing about it is that you can get chocolate out of it and that’s if you’re lucky. Otherwise it’s just a horrible day stuck in the middle of the month.”

“Says the guy who never got Valentine’s cards in class,” Simmons put in.

“Oh, I got Valentine’s cards,” Grif defended himself. “I’d have rather had chocolate though.”

“All you want is food,” Simmons grumbled.

You remembered something you’d heard a few times before from your mom, television and friends. You vaguely gestured at Grif from where you sat half-immersed in one of Donut’s magazines and commented idly. “I guess the way to your heart is through your stomach, huh, Grif?”

Grif snorted. “Why, are you planning on wooing me, rookie? Let me warn you, I ain’t easy.”

You echoed a snorted in reply, looking up from the magazine. “Running away either literally or figuratively would be too much work for you, _Grif_. I bet I wouldn’t even have to try hard if that’s what I wanted, which, by the way, it isn’t.”

Grif glared. “All right, rookie, if it’s as you say then if you ever _are_ interested, I’m gonna reject you out of principle.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Simmons interjected. “When did this happen?”

You both looked at him. “When did what happen?”

“This,” Simmons gestured between the two of you. He elaborated. “This chemical attraction between you.”

“There is _nothing_ between us,” you hissed.

“At all,” Grif added. He waved at hand you. “She’s annoying as hell.”

“And he’s a lazy, good-for-nothing,” you retaliated.

“Go to hell, rookie,” Grif scowled.

“You first,” you retorted angrily.

You both glared daggers at the other before turning your heads away. Simmons sighed as Grif viciously chewed his food and you violently turned the pages of the magazine. 

He hated getting caught in the middle.

* * *

**Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. **

**~Katharine Hepburn **


	18. Locked Away [Sarge]

_A rookie gives them a number advantage but Sarge isn't about to send a girl into battle._

* * *

“I said no!”

You scowled, holding your helmet against your hip. “Sergeant, with all due respect, I’m supposed to be a solider, not a base-keeper or base-cleaner.”

“Technically, we’re not even soldiers,” Grif commented, turning his helmet towards you. “According to the so-called grand scheme of things, we’re just trainees. Also, why the hell are you arguing with Sarge? I’d give anything to be in your shoes.”

You stared. “You want to be under house arrest twenty-four-seven with endless chores?”

“Hell yeah,” Grif replied. “Get to stay inside away from bullets, fighting and the general insanity out there, relax… Almost makes me wish I was a girl.” Sarge and Simmons turned to Grif. He shuffled a bit. “Yeah, I realized that sounded weird as the words were leaving my mouth...”

Sarge turned back to you. “The point is, little lady, that you’re not to leave the safety of the base.”

“That’s not my function,” you protested.

“Of course not,” Sarge said. “A woman’s function is to cook and clean and not get in the way of war.”

“Tex was a woman and those weren’t her functions at all,” Simmons reminded his C.O.

“I don’t think you can really call Tex a woman,” Grif argued. “More like half-ghost, half-monster.”

“Who’s Tex and why would you call her half-ghost and half-monster?” you asked side-tracked despite yourself.

“Never mind,” your fellows Reds said at the same time.

“Come on,” you pleaded. “How am I supposed to get any combat experience if you won’t let me enter combat?”

Sarge turned to you. “Have you learned how to shoot your firearm yet?”

“How can I?” you burst. “You hardly ever let me outside and when you do you never let me practice!”

“That’s because you don’t know how to use your firearm,” Sarge barked.

“She has a point, Sarge,” Grif conceded. “She is a rookie and a rookie’s supposed to gain experience in our fights with the Blues.”

“Forget it,” Sarge said firmly. “She’s not leaving the base. The Blues already know we have her and we can’t let Tucker get her.”

“Yeah, he’s been asking where our rookie is,” Simmons concurred. “He even knows it’s a she.”

“Standing _right here_,” you reminded them.

“And right here is where you’ll stay!” Sarge held up a hand, cutting off your protests. “That's _final_, rookie.”

You grumbled as your superior officers left the base. Letting out a heavy sigh you collapsed with your armor onto a chair. 

It just wasn’t fair.

* * *

**You [men] are not our protectors... If you were, who would there be to protect us from? **

**~Mary Edwards Walker**


End file.
